“Sure, I’ll go fetch the sword you left lying about in the other room,” Alec said dryly as he headed for the office door. “And why aren’t you yelling at him, Q? I jumped off a roof, but he’s the one who’s got an unbandaged cut on his pretty face.”
James smirked; the cut gave it a roguish edge. “Hear that, Q? He said I’m pretty.”
“You are.” Q smiled fondly at James, then turned to call after Alec. “And I’ve already taken care of that cut because I can see it.”
With a quiet snicker, James leaned over, silently asking for a kiss. After Q obliged, James said, “Plus I’m pretty enough that I don’t need a scar to be noticeable. Right?”
Q rolled his eyes. “You’re a secret agent, James. You shouldn’t be noticeable in any way.” He lightly touched James’ chin before he could pull away and added, “You are, though.”
“Oi. No starting anything without me,” Alec said as he came back into the office, now holding a bare sword, blade polished to a mirror finish that made Q blink and squint against the glare from the overhead lights. The hilt was carved gold, so bright that it looked almost like Alec was holding an open flame.